“If I’m not working with Mr. McBride, who will be my point of contact?” the contractor asked. “Will you be running point?”
“Fuck no,” I mumbled. “I think it’s best you contact Ben. He’ll be able to give you more direction. I’m merely filling in for him.”
The man nodded while his eyes were glued to me. In fact, I wasn’t sure he’d looked away once since I interrupted his conversation with the cowboy. I could practically smell his fear, and while it usually amused me, I was growing more irritated by the second.
“Well, then. I guess that’s all for now. I’ll call Ben.”
“Good idea.” To ensure Ben was aware, I pulled out my phone and shot him a quick text. I didn’t go into detail, simply let him know he should expect a call.
Once the contractor finally left, I locked the door behind me and went in search of the cowboy and the pretty boy. I’d asked that they take Tank and wait in the lobby.
I found them sitting against the wall, the cowboy on one of the cherrywood benches while the pretty boy was on the marble floor, back to the wall with Tank between his spread legs. He was absently rubbing Tank’s fur while staring off into space.
The scene had me pausing in my tracks. The pretty boy looked quite content to be sitting with my dog. All three of them were silent while the cowboy was skimming something on his phone.
Tank heard me first, because his head turned, a wide smile forming on his face. And yes, dogs fucking smiled. Mine did.
When I approached, the pretty boy pushed to his feet, then passed Tank’s leash over to me.
“I’m sorry about that, Zeke,” the cowboy said when he stood. “I wasn’t sure what it was he needed from me.”
“I don’t think he knew,” I assured him. “I told him to get with Ben.”
I turned my attention back to the pretty boy. “You good?”
“Yep. Much better now.”
He was lying, I could tell.
I should’ve turned and walked out of the building, but something kept me rooted there. Ever since I saw the pretty boy’s pale face outside the building a short time ago, I’d been worried about him. Not that I was prone to worrying. Nor was I condoning my behavior. Whatever he was dealing with wasn’t my business.
“What’s the plan?” I asked.
The cowboy tucked his phone into his pocket and sighed. “I don’t know yet.”
“We’re going back up to the apartment,” the pretty boy stated, as though it was obvious. “I’ll be fine. I just have to—”
I cut him off by motioning toward the elevator. “Come on then.”
Neither of them moved.
“It wasn’t a request,” I said, casting my voice lower than before.
The pretty boy’s eyes widened, but his legs started working. If nothing else, he was relatively good at following instruction.
“Where are we going?” the cowboy asked as he fell into step with me.
“Up to the apartment.” I wanted to see the pretty boy’s reaction for myself.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Case needs—”
“I didn’t ask for your input,” I told him, catching and holding his stare. “Now, let’s go.”
The cowboy was obviously confused, perhaps even a little pissed—it was written all over his face—but when the pretty boy started walking, we followed.
It wasn’t like I was going to toss them in the apartment and force the pretty boy to suffer. I had an idea, something that would potentially take the pretty boy’s mind off whatever had triggered his panic attack. Not only would it benefit him if I could get him distracted, it would benefit me. I needed to assess this situation. Considering what I had in store for these two, it was imperative that I knew what I was up against.
I needed to determine whether or not the pretty boy was capable of scening with me or not. I’d seen him restrained before, and at the time, I hadn’t gotten any indication that he had a problem with it. So, perhaps the restraints weren’t the issue. However, the idea of being boxed in could be, as well as the amount of space he had around him. I wouldn’t know until I saw it for myself.
Once inside the elevator, I kept an eye on the pretty boy as he leaned against the wall. He was trying to appear unaffected, but the color was already draining from his face.
“Do you have an issue with elevators?” I asked.
“Not a huge fan, no.”
“The confinement?”
He shook his head. “More so the lack of air.”
I glanced up at the ceiling. There was plenty of air, but I understood what he meant. His brain wasn’t registering the ventilation.
When we stepped out of the elevator, he stumbled once but managed to catch himself. With Tank beside me, we followed them down the hallway. The cowboy unlocked their door and then stepped inside. I was right behind them.
